


Foolish Mortal

by ghostwheeze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Fuckin ghosts y'all, Imma try to be as funny as them, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rating May Change, Ryan doesnt know, Shane is a demon, Sorry guys, and gets his kicks out of scaring ryan, but their banter is in a league all its own, inspired by the comment, oodles of swearing, where shane is a demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwheeze/pseuds/ghostwheeze
Summary: After a demon encounters a teenage Ryan Bergara on-board the Queen Mary, the spirit decides to follow the entertaining boy around, eventually possessing a vessel to spend even more time with the kid. When they both land their own show where they investigate the paranormal, the demon - Shane - takes glee in watching Ryan try to interact with spirits. If only he knew there was one right next to him.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> previously posted to my wattpad before I remember ao3 is a thing lmao 
> 
> I'm also ghostwheeze on tumblr if you feel so inclined to follow me or send a fic request!
> 
> PS I just bumped this up to a teen rating for scariness/horror/swearing (oops)

_Who the fuck was making all that noise?_

He snarled and snapped his eyes open, peering out into the dark confines of the Queen Mary.

Off in the distance, he could make out a small group making their way toward his hiding place. Ghost hunters, probably. He would have rolled his eyes if he, you know, had any.

"Hey! You're a motherfucker, you know that?!"

The demon lounging in the shadows nearly guffawed at the outlandish statement by one of the team members. He had to admit, there weren't many hunters that came through the ship's creaking hallways with that amount of guts.

"And you're a coward!"

Alright, that irked him a bit. Who did this guy think he was? Careful to maintain invisibility, the demon stepped further into the grand ballroom, eyes sharp as he watched a trio of young adults traipse into the enormous room.

_Ugh, teenagers. Figures._

Their investigation was rudimentary at best, which wasn't surprising considering they didn't even seem to have faith in what they were doing anyway. Silent, the demon followed them through the ship, snarling at any other spirits who wandered a bit too closely when curiosity got the better of them. He found he'd taken a liking to the leader of the group – Ryan, one of the others had called him. His smile was bright, his wheezing laughter infectious, and his snide remarks reminded the demon of himself when he was alive.

"This ship is bullshit!"

Alright, maybe he didn't like the kid that much.

As he watched the team hunker down for the night and drift off to sleep, he smirked and approached the bed. All of the goading from the boy – Ryan – had admittedly annoyed him a bit. Something about the teen got under his skin.

Drawing on some sort of childish impulse, the demon manifested slightly and began to poke Ryan's cheek, over and over.

_Let's see you get a good night's sleep, hm?_

Laughter shook through him when the boy eventually snapped his eyes open and searched the room, deliciously fearful. Satisfied, the demon went to lurk in the shadows for the rest of the night.

When morning dawned and the boys rose, the demon continued to watch as Ryan recounted his experience during the night, attempting to find an explanation for feeling someone touch his face. Hah!

The demon stood on the edge of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, invisible to its occupants. They still didn't seem entirely convinced that there were spirits surrounding them, so he glanced around the room thoughtfully. What would be the dumbest thing that could—Aha!

Wafting forward, unseen and unheard, the demon smirked as Ryan chattered away. Listening to his passionate voice was delightful, but even more fun was scaring the shit out of him. So, arrogant as ever, the demon lazily grabbed the edge of a plastic bag on the counter, and tipped it over the edge like a petulant cat. He beamed at their reactions, breathing in the scent of their combined fear with glee.

Frightening humans was certainly his idea of a good time, but startling Ryan was the most entertaining of all. His eyes tracked the human around the room.

Perhaps it was time he ended his stay on the Queen Mary.


	2. Part Two

"This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we explore the Stanley Hotel in Colorado, as part of our on-going investigation – are ghosts real?"

Shane shook his head back and forth at the nearest camera.

"The Stanley Hotel is probably the creepiest place we've ever visited, because it served as the inspiration for Stephen King's novel The Shining. Built by a wealthy Earl in 1909, the luxurious hotel consists of a main residential building, a concert hall, a maze, and a lodge, which is where Shane and I will be doing most of our investigating, and where we will be staying the night.

"Due to its early construction, the hotel went without any central heating until 1983, and therefore closed for the winter every year. And in 1974, Stephen King and his wife spent one night in room 217. They had unknowingly chosen the night before the hotel closed for the season, and found they were the only overnight guests. King quotes the 'long, empty corridors' and a vivid nightmare as his muse for one of the best-selling horror novels of all time—"

"Wait, wait. Hold up. You're saying that Stephen King, the actual best horror novelist of all time, was creeped out by this place?" Shane interrupted.

Laughter burst from Ryan in a wheeze. "I mean, yeah I guess—"

"And you're going there? You."

"I mean, I don't think it'll be the worst place we've been to. No death chutes, and it's a luxury hotel!"

Shane snorted and gave him a grin, waving for him to continue.

"The Stanley Hotel is supposedly one of the most haunted places in America, despite having a peaceful history—"

"How is a place haunted if no one died there?!"

"I—I honestly don't know—"

"That makes about as much sense as—as a pig at a bacon festival."

"Wha-What?! A pig at a bacon festival?" Ryan's shoulders shook with the force of his laughter.

"You can't have a spirit without death. It's haunting 101. Actually, it's haunting 201 now, I guess. We already had semester one of haunting." Shane grinned.

"I think we're way past semester two. We've practically graduated," Ryan retorted with a chuckle. "Anyway, it has a really serious reputation for spiritual activity, and loads of paranormal investigators have been there. And there may even be reports of demonic activity."

"Oh. Oh dear. Gonna bring your holy water again? That stuff works really well," Shane deadpanned, giving Ryan a small smirk.

"I never go on an investigation without it."

"Holy water, Batman!"

"Alright, I'm looking at the clock and it says it's time for you to shut up."

"Oh! Burn!"

Ryan laughed and shoved his phone into his pocket, standing as the cameraman switched off the camera. "Hey, we don't know that holy water doesn't work," he argued.

"Oh, I think we do," Shane shot back. He got to his feet and stretched. "I'll see you at the airport tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure thing. See you then." Ryan gave a little wave, gathering his things before leaving the room, and Shane smirked after him. Holy water. Yeah right.

...

It had taken little effort to follow Ryan Bergara the years following his investigation on the Queen Mary. And even less effort to possess a vessel and insert himself into the boy's life.

The vessel was tall – tall enough that the demon had to learn how to operate the extra long limbs – with sandy hair and handsome features, but unassuming enough to not draw attention. More importantly, the human had technical skills relevant to Bergara's own future, which he called upon to get himself far enough to earn a desk right next to the boy. And it only took a teeny-weeny amount of manipulation to eventually get them their own show that centered around the supernatural.

Somewhere along the way, the demon couldn't help but feel that it was less about torturing the other human who had mocked him all those years ago. No, now it was because he liked the boy. He wanted to be around him, and enjoyed making him laugh. As much as he relished in the terror that coursed through Ryan's veins, somewhere along the way he started keeping the worst of the spirits away from his human. Somewhere along the way, he stopped having to remind himself that his new name was Shane.

Somewhere along the way, he'd started caring.

...

The next day, their car wove along the winding road through the dense forests of Colorado. Shane was at the wheel (driving was a skill the demon quickly realized he'd need), as Ryan flicked on their handheld camera.

"Alright, we're pulling up to the hotel now," he spoke to the device, then swiveled it around to show the hotel in all its glory as they rounded onto the grounds.

"Oh, shit, this is kind of amazing," said Shane.

The hotel was nestled among a crop of pine trees with enormous cliffs vanishing into the clouds just behind it. Alabaster pillars adorned with American flags supported a roof the color of dried blood, which contrasted magnificently with the sweeping green forests that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"The Dauphine Hotel can go fuck itself, now this is luxury," he added, and Ryan snickered.

"And there's no gruesome murder stories attached to the place, so it's great!"

"Well, _The Shining_ is a gruesome murder story."

Ryan stilled as Shane parked the car, looking like the rug had been pulled out from under him. "Fuck. You're right! Oh, goddamnit, this is doing to be terrible, isn't it?"

"Yep!" Shane replied cheerfully as he climbed from the car and went to grab their bags.

"This might be the scariest night of my life."

"Oh, absolutely."

"Worse than the Sallie House."

"Exponentially."

"Fuck me."

"Gladly."

Ryan snorted and punched Shane's arm playfully as he took his backpack from him, then led the way across the parking lot toward the lobby of the hotel. "You wouldn't actually let a ghost get me, would you?"

Shane gave him a long look, then dragged his eyes away to lock gazes with a pale man in one of the windows overlooking the parking lot. He glared, letting his eyes burn black for just a second, just long enough to send the other spirit fleeing.

"'Course I wouldn't."


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk? spooky stuff

“Are we… early?”

Shane lifted his eyes away from his phone and glanced around the empty foyer. The rich mahogany flooring was devoid of people, despite the fact that a ghost tour was meant to be starting in only a few minutes.

“This is so spooky, dude. It feels like we’re the only ones in the hotel. No wonder Stephen King wrote a book about it,” Ryan continued, looking down to fiddle with his camera.

Of course, they weren’t the only ones. The rest of their team was preparing equipment in the hotel rooms while Shane and Ryan had snuck out to do the hotel’s infamous ghost tour before it got too dark. And while they were not the only guests staying that night in the hotel, it did seem decidedly empty and quiet – with the exception of a towering figure leaning against the railing at the top of the sweeping staircase in front of them. He seemed to flicker in and out of existence, shadows twisting and churning his features. Shane was more than grateful Ryan didn’t have the ability to see him, or he’d flee the building.

“I wouldn’t say we’re totally alone,” Shane murmured offhandedly.

Before Ryan could reply, a heavyset man bustled toward them. “Hello, hello! My apologies for running late, to be perfectly honest we weren’t expecting people for the tour. My name is Jeffrey.” They were met with the man’s bright grin as he furiously shook both their hands. “You see, you’ve come during the quietest time of the year. We’ve found that November is far too cold for our guests, but there isn’t any snow to attract skiers.”

“’Suppose that makes sense,” said Shane with a shrug.

“Never the matter, we will get started with the tour right away!” Jeffrey gestured to the room around them. “Here we have our MacGregor Room…”

Jeffrey energetically outlined the general history of the hotel as the trio made their way to the ballroom, then back through the foyer up the grand staircase to the second floor. “And if you look to the left you’ll see room 217, where Stephen King stayed the night with his wife when he came up with the idea for _The Shining_. You’ll find that the atmosphere here is much the same as Mr. King experienced it, because of the off-peak season we’re experiencing right now…”

Shane tuned him out in favour of glancing down the hall and glaring at a pair of chattering full-bodied shadows that were peering around the corner at them. He knew he attracted attention, even with a human vessel to hide his true form, but this was a bit ridiculous. As Jeffrey began to describe the haunted history of the hotel, Shane had to fight back a snarl at the scratchy whispers drifting toward him from the spirits.

_“Who’s the tall one?”_

_“Don’t you know? He’s practically famous!”_

_“Then just what is he doing here in our neck of the woods?”_

_“I’ve no idea, but do you see the short one? He’s precious!”_

Shane cast his eyes to the ceiling, annoyed.

Jeffrey quieted as they ambled down the long corridor, and Shane took the opportunity to lean close to Ryan, putting his lips by his ear. “This has got to be the least scary place we’ve been to.”

Ryan jumped and glanced over. “What? No way! Like you said, even Stephen King got freaked by this place.”

Shane’s eyes flicked between Ryan and the shifting shadows as they drew closer, but the shorter man clearly had no idea there was anyone else there with them. “I dunno, doesn’t seem like there’s a lot of reports of activity.”

“Are you even listening? A lady claims she was possessed here! That’s demonic, dude.”

The trio rounded the corner, a mere inch from the spirits, and Ryan shivered involuntarily, but didn’t seem to notice it was because a couple of ghosts were gossiping right beside him.

_“Golly, the little one is positively charming!”_

Shane glared at her, but kept his words directed at Ryan. “Y’know, I bet if there are actually ghosts here – which there aren’t – they would say that _you’re_ demonic.”

_“Hardly, sir! We think he’s handsome!”_

Ryan burst into giggles. “Wow. Low blow, man.”

“Wasn’t me. It was the ghosts,” he said sarcastically, waggling his fingers, and the spirits scoffed behind them.

_“What a bluenose!”_

“Talking to you gives me heartburn,” Ryan muttered over her, glancing at Shane.

The ladies vanished and Shane smirked triumphantly. He was certain they would seek out the other spirits in the hotel and blabber about the newcomers, but he was counting on that. He needed everyone here to know that Ryan was his and they weren’t to be bothered.

The rest of the tour went much the same. Jeffrey cited paranormal activity, Ryan gobbled it all up, and Shane glowered at any curious spirits that stared too long.  

As the setting sun cast long shadows over the building, Ryan fidgeted, tapping his toes against the maroon carpet as they watched Jeffrey’s form stroll back toward the main entrance of the building at the end of the tour. “I don’t know about you, but some of those stories really freaked me out. Little kids playing ball up and down the corridors? Last time there were balls involved I practically had a heart attack. I—Don’t even go there!” He glared daggers when Shane opened his mouth to make a snarky remark.

Shane’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, holding his gut and practically wheezing with the force of it. “You’re the one who said it! Twice!”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a dirty mind like you!”

“Oh, lord, I do not have a dirty mind.”

“You’re right, you’re just an asshole.”

“I like to think of myself more as the devil.”

“Oh, is that it? Fucking figures. Of course you admire Satan.”

“I relate to him on a spiritual level,” Shane said dryly with a shrug.

“Yeah, whatever. C’mon, we should head back to the room and meet up with the others.”

“Right, let’s get this show on the road,” Shane agreed, and followed Ryan up the wooden steps to their floor. And if he positioned himself close enough that their arms brushed with every step in an undeniably protective manner each time they passed a spirit, well, Ryan didn’t need to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I wanna be bffs with those lady ghosts


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh boy

 “So, a few years ago, a maid was cleaning down the hall and she said she heard screaming coming from this room,” Ryan explained, eyeing the wooden door in front of them with trepidation. “When she let herself into the room, she said the woman was writhing on the bed and screaming impossibly loud. The maid didn’t know what to do, so she got the manager who called the paramedics. When they got here and managed to calm her down, they did some tests and there was no alcohol or drugs in her system. So, probably a demon.”

“That’s prejudiced against all demons everywhere.”

“You—Really?” Ryan laughed, shaking his head and grinning at Shane. “I think all stereotypes hold up for demons.”

“Now that’s just mean. I expected better from you, Bergara.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan sighed as he slid his phone into his back pocket. “It’s so fucking spooky here.” The hallway was brightly lit, lined with cozy wood panels, but the lack of hustle and bustle one expected from a hotel set Ryan’s teeth on edge. “Let’s just get this over with.”

With a steadying breath, Ryan gripped the doorknob and hesitantly stepped inside. As he crossed the threshold, a flash of movement caught Shane’s eye and he jerked around. He spotted a looming man at the end of the hall, his face as sharp as the suit hanging off his lean body. Golden eyes flashed in the shadows and Shane bit back a scathing sigh. Damn. He really didn’t need this right now.

In a façade of politeness, Shane held the hotel room door open for the cameraman, waiting until he was fully inside before Shane suddenly slammed the door shut and locked it with a single wave of his hand.

Ryan’s voice drifted through the thick door, muffled. “Uh, Shane?” The knob jiggled. “Shane, this isn’t funny, dude!”

“Don’t worry, Ryan, you’ll be fine. Promise! Cross my heart and hope to die,” Shane called back, though his eyes were trained on the suited figure sauntering toward him. “Two minutes, starting… Now!”

Ignoring Ryan’s protests, Shane stepped away from the door and matched the other man’s pace until they met face-to-face in the center of the hall.

“Aamon,” he greeted coolly.

The demon cocked his head. “Long time no see.”

“Bit busy.”

“Busy fraternizing with humans?”

“One human.”

The demon hummed skeptically, clasping his hands behind his back. Shane lifted his chin, wondering if this was going to be a challenge. He didn’t particularly want to battle it out with one of his closest friends from Hell, but he would fight tooth and claw to remain by Ryan’s side.

With a sudden sigh, Aamon slumped a bit and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “This is so below my pay grade. Come on, we’ve let this go on long enough. It’s time you came back.”

Shane’s lips abruptly twitched downwards. “No.”

“Wha—Are you serious? We have duties. You can't just clock out of Hell. We're short-staffed as it is.” The demon paused, tilting his head the other way and brushing his thumb against his lower lip thoughtfully. “Although, by abandoning your brethren and betraying Lucifer, you’re technically sinning, so…  Perhaps I should be proud."

“What a paradox,” Shane murmured sarcastically with a smirk. And this was why Aamon  was his favourite coworker. The two demons shared a smile.

Behind Shane, the hotel room door that kept Ryan prisoner shook fiercely. “ _Shane!_ ”

Aamon stiffened, eyes flicking over Shane’s shoulder. “I’m serious, brother. You know this isn’t a good idea.”

“I know.”

“You know what could happen, it’s dangerous--”

“I know.”

“Then why—“

Ryan’s frantic tone reached the pair once again and Shane visibly tensed as he battled the urge to turn back. His eyes narrowed into a glare as Aamon’s own golden irises expanded.

“ _Oh_.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s very dangerous.”

“Ain’t you got shit to do?”

“Alright,” Aamon replied softly, raising his hands in defeat. “But… Don’t let him be the reason you lose everything.”

Between one blink and the next, the suited demon vanished, and Shane rolled his eyes. “So dramatic,” he muttered, though worry gnawed at his gut. Whatever. Aamon had no idea what he was talking about. Shane had managed this long, hadn’t he?

As if moving on auto-pilot, Shane returned to the hotel room and swung the door open. If he were actually human, he might have flinched when the force of Ryan’s glare struck him head-on. “That was so not cool, dude.”

Shane forced himself to grin. “Did anything happen?”

“Well, no… But you’re still the fucking devil.”

Shane snorted and shook his head, stepping back to allow Ryan and the cameraman past. “Nah, he’s just my boss.”

The trio wandered along the corridor and down the stairs to the small concert hall situated on the edge of the hotel. They briefly waved at the employee behind the front desk, but other than that, there were no other souls in sight. Living ones, anyway.

“We should do an EVP session,” Ryan said as he hopped up on the short stage and sat himself on the edge, short legs dangling over the oak flooring.

Shane nodded, though he was only listening somewhat. The spirit of a young child had drifted into the room, curious about the newcomers.

“Is there anyone here?” Ryan asked reluctantly, as if fearful of actually getting a response.

The child perked up and slithered closer. It continually glanced at Shane, as though anxious of being reprimanded, but Shane only smirked and kept the camera trained on his human companion. Excited, the spirit bounced up next to him and settled, watching it’s legs swing next to Ryan’s.

“Holy shit, dude, I feel super dizzy all of a sudden,” Ryan murmured, rubbing his forehead and shivering.

“Really?” Shane asked dryly.

“I know you don’t believe me—“

“No, I believe you. There’s totally a ghost sitting next to you right now.”

“Hardy-har-har,” muttered Ryan, entirely unaware of spirit child as it suddenly lost interest and stood, padding across the stage to explore. “Okay. Um. There are footsteps behind me. You can hear them, right?” Ryan slid off the edge of the stage and turned, shining his flashlight into the shadows, passing right over the ghost.

“Nope,” Shane replied cheerfully, nearly laughing.

“Are you kidding me?! They’re right there!”

The apparition froze, turning toward them and tilting it’s head inquisitively. It looked slightly offended that it was being yelled at. With a frown, it swiveled toward Shane, as if searching for answers. Clearly stressed, the figure began to flicker. It flashed between the normal visage of an innocent child and its final form, shadows contorting to reveal ashen skin and water trickling from purple lips, sodden clothes leaving puddles on the floor around it. Shane suppressed a flinch. He may have been a demon, but he wasn’t a monster, and he never relished in seeing the True Form of that of a child.   

Shane gave the slightest of nods to the ghost, hoping Ryan wouldn’t notice his haunted expression.

Pure terror melted the spirit’s features and in a heartbeat it dematerialized, leaving Shane standing there in bewilderment. His heart skipped. What had he done?

As silence engulfed them, Ryan stared, wide-eyed, at the stage. “It’s… It’s gone. It’s—It’s literally ghosting me. Goddamnit.”

Shane couldn’t keep a chuckle from bubbling past his lips and he grinned down at his friend. “Yeah, it’s gone,” he murmured, pivoting slowly on his heels to pan the camera around the room. Why had the young spirit fled so suddenly? Sure, Shane was a demon, but he’d come in peace, and the child had warmed up to him and Ryan near immediately. Unease settled in his chest, and Shane flicked his eyes around the room, searching, though he didn’t quite know what he was searching for. The feeling of being watched made his hair stand on end; anxiety squeezed his throat, fingers twitching as he fought the instinct to _run, run, run_. Overwhelmed, his lips parted to suggest they move on, but all that came out was a choked-off groan. A putrid, rancid odor like rotting flesh assaulted his senses and his stomach churned, threatening to heave.

“Shane, are you okay?” Ryan’s voice drifted through the sudden fog around him and he squeezed his eyes shut, bending in half to grip his knees to steady himself.

Never, in all their years of investigating, had Shane been influenced by any ‘feelings’ from their locations. The constant spout of ‘dread this and dread that’ from Ryan was bullshit, even to a demon, but in the span of a second he understood all too well. But it didn’t make any sense, such negative emotions shouldn’t disturb him like this; if anything, he should thrive off of them.

Iciness swooped through his gut and he struggled to lift his head. Instantly, his gaze locked with a pair of blazing eyes at the far corner of the room. His breath caught in his throat. The inky shadows writhed, blending seamlessly with the man’s dark ankle-length coat. There was a flash of coal-coloured wings and wolf-like teeth bared in a menacing grin.

Shane straightened and glowered daggers at the intruder. His throat clicked with a nerves but he squared his shoulders and languidly, deliberately, laid his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. The shorter man’s pleas swept past him unnoticed as he kept his eyes trained on the monstrosity across the room. Claws glinted in the low light as the being flung another snarling grin at him, before folding in on itself and dispersing.

Refusing to relax straight away, Shane remained frozen. His pulse roared, breath escaping in quick, sharp pants. In all honesty, he’d nearly forgotten what utter terror felt like. Shit, was this how Ryan felt all the time?

“Shane!”

The demon startled and finally tugged his gaze away from the empty corner of the room to meet Ryan’s wide eyes. He snapped his hand back to himself and hoped against hope Ryan wouldn’t mention it.

“What the fuck was that?” the shorter man asked. “Did… Did you feel it too?”

Shane swallowed thickly. “’Too’?”

Ryan nodded solemnly. “I… I felt this like… dread. Like, my energy was being sucked out of me, and I’d never be happy again.”

The taller man smiled, just slightly, just enough to ease the tension a bit. He couldn’t have Ryan panicking—it would only feed it. “Like the Dementors from Harry Potter?” he drawled sarcastically.

Ryan blinked, then chuckled. “Fuck off. But yeah, like the Dementors.”

“Well then, you’re definitely not a Gryffindor.”

Allowing the bickering to take over, Shane gently gripped Ryan’s elbow and steered him from the room, but not without casting one last searching glance to where the dark entity had manifested itself.

Fuck. He hated it when Aamon was right.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooOOOOoooo what's gonna happen


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly gee this was a struggle to write! I listened to the song Take It All by Ruelle a lot while writing this, and I've definitely decided it's the theme song for this fic. Definitely check it out!
> 
> I also want to say thank you so much for all your support, it means the world to me!

In Hell, things work a bit differently than what one might expect.

In Hell, the class system is structured around power—who has it, how much of it they have, and whether or not they can lose it. After death, the spirits of the damned are free to spend eternity wandering the depths of the underworld. Or, if they wish, they have the opportunity to challenge other spirits for their energy. If a soul is defeated, the winner gains their power. With enough energy, the spirit can manifest itself as a demon.

In Hell, demons rank above condemned souls, but below the Devil. Most hover on the same rung of the social ladder, though there are a few with more power and responsibilities-- Beelzebub and Crowley, for example. But no one climbs higher than that. 

In Hell, demons don’t challenge one another for their power. Why would they? Once a demon, the only requirements are show up, torment a few souls, and go home. One foot out of line and Lucifer threatens a spirited round of whack-a-demon.

Because In Hell, no one can be as powerful as the Devil.

Nor has anyone even attempted to come close.

…

 “You brought your holy water, right?”

Ryan’s honey-brown eyes flick up to meet his gaze. His eyelashes, glazed with the mist currently sprinkling over them, glittered in the low light spilling from the hotel windows, and he’s near enough that Shane could feel his sweet breath on his face. The demon gulped as his heartrate climbed, warmth painting his cheeks. Shit. Now wasn’t the time. There was a serious situation at hand here.

Shane flipped up the collar of his denim jacket to ward off the frankly aggressive nighttime chill, facing forward again. Before them stretched a vast hedge maze, at least twice as tall as Shane, the foreboding entrance open wide like the maw of a beast. The pair had retreated outdoors, Shane claiming he needed fresh air to clear his mind, and Ryan, concerned after the odd spell his friend experienced in the concert hall, happily obliged. Their cameraman had peeled off to return to one of their hotel rooms in an effort to get some rest. But Ryan, ever the persistent one, wanted to investigate one last spot before retiring for the night.

Shane drummed his fingers anxiously against his thigh as they stood on the marble steps of the hotel, wondering how he could convince Ryan to give up the case early. He didn’t want him anywhere near the creature he’d seen. Sometimes, his friend’s inability to see the dead was a frustrating hindrance. If only Shane could tell him, could explain that something malignant lurked the halls of the lodge, then maybe Ryan might listen to him and they could leave the wretched place behind. The words remained locked behind firm lips, though, too terrified of how Ryan may react.

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason.” Shane shrugged, eyes trained on the dark silhouette of the mountain range against the midnight sky. “Christ, it’s colder than my soul out here.”

Ryan chuckled and Shane nearly sighed in relief when he suggested they head back inside. He needed to get to their room and surreptitiously sprinkle Ryan’s holy water beneath the doors and windows until he figured out what the hell was going on.

“Can’t wait to get back to the room,” Shane commented. “Turn on the TV. Lay in that nice bed. Go to sleep. All that good stuff.”

“Yeah, I just gotta check one last place.” Ryan flashed him a mischievous grin and waved a keycard at him. “Room 217, man! The one Stephen King himself slept in. What kind of Unsolved hosts would we be if we didn’t at least take a peek?”

Shane frowned, his pace slowing. His gaze tracked Ryan’s form in front of him-- tracked the hard lines of his shoulders and the slope of his waist and his neatly combed hair; tracked the eager bounce in his step as the numbers 217 grew closer and closer. Warmth boiled in Shane’s chest, followed by a fierce determination. Never, in a thousand years, was he going to let that abomination he’d seen near this boy.

The door clicked softly behind them as they stepped into the hotel room. Almost immediately, the window rattled as a breeze gusted against the building and Ryan sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back so his shoulders brushed Shane’s chest. The demon barely registered the whiff of citrus shampoo as Ryan’s dark hair tickled his nose, before the shorter man jumped away again with a muttered apology. Shane wanted to reach out, to grab him, to tell him no, it was fine, it was all fine. But he couldn’t. Caring meant losing. And leave it to him to fall for a creature as fragile as a human.

“It was just the wind, Ry,” he chuckled, feigning nonchalance as he swept his camera around the dark room.

“You don’t know that—“

“Trust me, I do know that.”

“Whatever,” Ryan muttered, stepping closer to the bed and peering down at it. “I can’t believe Stephen King slept here.”

“I wonder if he and his wife boinked in this room.”

“Shane—“ Ryan wheezed, tossing him an incredulous look on top of a bright grin.

“What? That’s a perfectly reasonable question.” Shane’s own lips twitched, begging to mirror Ryan’s infectious smile.

“It’s really not, dude.”

 

In a single breath, decaying flesh once again invaded his senses and Shane stiffened, eyes darting as he scanned for the threat. Ryan had settled on the bed, fiddling with the audio recorder, and Shane took a moment to meander around the room. The tang in the air intensified near the door. That thing – that beast – had to be lurking in the hallway, crouched and ready to pounce the second they stepped foot outside. And he couldn’t let it anywhere near Ryan.

With a strange sense of déjà vu, Shane pivoted on the spot to face Ryan, a strange sense of calm washing over him. Ryan. With his soft bronze skin that would split smooth as butter underneath a set of ruthless claws. For a split second, Shane stared helplessly as his imagination went into overdrive. Crimson cascaded over the peaks and valleys of Ryan’s features, his body ripped to shreds, skin as chalky as the pale sheets around his lifeless form. Shane blinked, and the vision dissipated. But panic had burrowed into his core.

“We should do a solo session,” Shane heard himself suggesting. The words were muffled, like he was underwater. His heart thrummed in his ears, so emphatic he nearly missed Ryan’s reply.

“Let me think about that. No.”

Shane couldn’t bring himself to smile, already edging toward the door. “C’mon, I promise it’ll be fine.” The lie resonated flatly even to his own ears, but Ryan didn’t seem to catch on.

“No way, you’re a fucking dick and I don’t trust you.”

That brought a smile to Shane’s lips. Of course the last words he would probably hear from the human would be those. “I promise it’ll be fine,” he repeated softly. As if wading through sludge, he stepped back across the threshold and clicked the door shut, cutting off Ryan’s exasperated sigh.

Shane debated the merits of abandoning his human vessel, not wanting to be limited by mere muscle and tissue in the imminent brawl, but was interrupted by Ryan’s faint voice on the other side of the wood.

_“Uh… Is anyone here?”_

Shane peered around him, but the hallway was empty, though the putrid stench continued to penetrate his senses.

_“I-If you’re here… Could you… make a sign? Shit, shit, no, forget I said that.”_

Shane grinned crookedly, but straightened as the lights flickered up and down the hallway. He flexed his fingers, waiting.

 _“Maybe the ghosts are those twin girls from the movie,”_ he heard Ryan mutter to himself.

One by one, the lights burst in quick succession, the darkness speeding toward Shane. The demon spread his feet and braced, his back to the hotel room door. As he was engulfed in pitch darkness, he froze, poised and ready to strike.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three heartbeats.

Nothing.

As confusion settled over him, the lights glowed brightly once again and the foul stench vanished. The air around him stilled, and he frowned. Perhaps it was an intimidation technique?

His heart faltered when the door unlatched open behind him and Shane spun on his heel. He sagged with relief when he saw Ryan’s small form beaming at him in the doorway.

“Well thank fuck that’s over! C’mon, I’m so done with this place, it’s late. I just wanna go to bed.” He emphasized his words with a yawn and thumbed off his flashlight.

Shane relaxed minutely, though he didn’t move from in front of the entry, focused on calming his rapid heartbeat. “Sure, whatever you want,” he replied, all too eager to get Ryan to the relative safety of their room.

“Right, I’m out. Suck my dick, ghosts!”

Shane smirked fondly and edged back to allow Ryan to leave, taking the chance to eyeball the corridor one last time, but luckily they appeared truly alone.

“Bye-bye, fuckers! See you in Hell!” Ryan took one step into the hallway, and Shane only had time to turn, eyes landing on his friend in time for the world to rewind itself. Against all physics, Ryan soared backward off of his feet as if yanked by the shadows themselves. The sight charred itself like a brand into Shane’s memory; Ryan’s eyes wide and lips forming around a shout, hands flying up to grasp hold of something, anything, before the darkness swallowed him and the door clanged shut with a finality that rattled Shane’s very soul.

 “ _Ryan!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i'm super excited for the next chapter, where we'll get to meet another new character! hold on to your bootstraps ladies and gents


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare to hate me !!!

_13 Months Ago_

Ryan spotted Shane fidgeting out of the corner of his eye as they framed the shot outside of the Sacred Heart Church in San Jose. Of course, he’d put it down to shooting nerves, even if that made no sense whatsoever since Shane wasn’t the type to get camera-shy.

“We’re gonna be happy that we talked to him and had his guidance when we go to some of these places,” Ryan said with a grin to the camera, adamant that meeting with Father Gary Thomas was essential. Like hell he was going to walk into Demonsville without any sort of protection.

“Yeah I think so. We better—We better stock up on some knowledge here, otherwise we’re gonna get murdered by ghosts,” Shane remarked, and Ryan shook his head, exasperated that Shane wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

“You’re gonna be thankful that we’re meeting this guy later. I promise you, you will regret that statement.”

Shane, in fact, didn’t seem at all grateful to be meeting the pastor. As they sat amongst the pews and Ryan soaked up every bit of knowledge from Father Thomas, Shane’s hands fiddled and squirmed in his lap, his eyes darting around the church as if it personally offended him. He seemed reluctant to shake Father Thomas’ hand, let alone meet his gaze, and for the life of him Ryan couldn’t wrap his mind around why Shane was being so rude to the man nice enough to interview for them.

The second filming finished, Shane stood and turned, as if to make a hasty exit, but froze when Ryan spoke up.

“Shane, wait—Could you take this for me?” He thrust out the freshly blessed bottle of holy water. “I’m gonna pack up the equipment and ask Father Thomas some more questions.”

Shane’s hazel eyes flicked between the water and Ryan’s gaze for a second too long to be comfortable. “I’ll grab the equipment, Ry,” he said, throwing him an easy smile and turning away again before Ryan could part his lips to protest.

Ryan’s mouth tugged downward. What the hell? Who would willingly volunteer to lug a ton of bulky filming gear to the car?

Shane’s strange behavior niggled at Ryan, and as he settled in the passenger seat of their car, he slipped his phone from his pocket, flicked open the browser, and danced his fingers across the screen.

_‘How to ask your friend if they’re religious or not’_

_10 Months Ago_

“At the risk of sounding repetitive, I’m gonna go ahead and say that ghosts aren’t real.”

“ _At the risk of sound repetitive, I’m gonna say ghosts aren’t real, science all the way, gravity is my only friend,”_ Ryan mocked in a nasally voice.

“That is so untrue. I have lots of friends. Have you met mitochondria? She’s the powerhouse of the cell.”

Ryan couldn’t stop a snort from escaping him. Damn it, fuck Shane for making him laugh when he was meant to be annoyed with him. Although, he kind of loved it when Shane forced him to wheeze with laughter. He kind of loved a lot of the things Shane said and did.

“Yeah, well, maybe science and ghosts go hand-in-hand, hm? Who knows?”

“Me. I know.”

Ryan threw his hands up and groaned in disbelief. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Nah, I’m just not stupid. And stupidity is a sin.”

“That sounds like something Satan would say.”

Shane stiffened and glanced at Ryan briefly, then shifted away again, avoiding eye contact. Ryan studied his friend as he licked his lips and twisted his watch around his forearm.

When Shane continued to flat-out ignore him, Ryan narrowed his eyes and faced his computer screen again. Alright, maybe Shane _did_ have a religion?

Half an hour later, after Shane disappeared for lunch, Ryan hurriedly pecked at his keyboard.

_‘How to know if your friend practices Satanism’_

 

_6 Months Ago_

It was a stereotypical haunted house—lots of shadows, mold clinging to the walls, ambiguous creaking that may or may not be footsteps—that sort of shit.

Like he normally would, Ryan kept the history of the building to himself until they began filming. They’d found the perfect spot on a retro futon in the sitting room, and as Ryan began to divulge the stories surrounding the home, he couldn’t help but watch Shane out of the corner of his eye.

Only a few minutes into recording, and Shane’s attention clearly remained elsewhere. His eyes darted around the room more than normal, his gaze focusing again and again on the vacant rocking chair opposite them. But whatever, he probably just wasn’t that interested in the case. Again—normal.

Despite Ryan’s adamant protesting, all too soon they crept down into the basement, and he had to tamp down on the urge to turn tail and run like a bat out of Hell as the darkness enclosed on him. But, like normal, he relaxed as he and Shane tossed a few insults back and forth. Really, it was as routine as ever, until Shane asked, “Hey Ryan, you should ask the ghost why it’s so ugly.”

Ryan swung around to stare at him with wide eyes. “Are you kidding me? No way. Insulting perfectly innocent ghosts is your job.”

“Yeah, but it’s funny when you do it,” Shane said with a douche-y grin. “C’mon, Ry, they shot themselves in the face, right? Sure doesn’t sound like a pretty sight.”

A chuckle withered up in his throat, grin slipping from his face. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That someone shot themselves here. I didn’t say that yet. I was saving it for when we went up to the bedroom.” He racked his brain furiously, trying to remember if he’d ever mentioned the gruesome death, and his heart throbbed anxiously when he realized he hadn’t. This was definitely _not_ normal.

Ryan only managed to glimpse a furrowed brow before Shane turned away. “No, I’m sure you told me.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“Okay, Ryan, clearly the answer is I see dead people. Watch out, Haley Joel Osment, there’s a new kid in town.” He scoffed, wiggling his fingers in a spooky manner. “Seriously, I must’ve just read up on it when you said we were coming here.” Shane shrugged, lowering his eyes to the camera in his hand.

Despite seeing right through the bold-faced lie, Ryan allowed the matter to drop, but it never left his mind. And a few hours later, as they settled down in their sleeping bags for a night of hell, Ryan clutched his phone while Shane fluffed up with his pillow.

_‘Can some people actually see ghosts?’_

_1 Month Ago_

“Don’t tell me you’re looking at magic symbols.”

Ryan flinched in his seat and swiveled away from the computer to glare at the lanky man who’d snuck up behind him. “I’m looking at magic symbols,” he shot back, annoyed that Shane insisted on shoving his skepticism into his face, despite the fact that he may or may not be able to see ghosts. Ryan was pretty sure he did it just to be a devil’s advocate.

Not that he knew for sure Shane could see ghosts. Every bit of evidence he had was circumstantial, and he hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask his coworker about it yet. It wasn’t exactly a topic he could slip into everyday conversation.

“Well that one is terrible. Are they even trying?” Shane huffed and plopped himself beside his friend, the disdain in his eyes illuminated by the glow of the screen. “And why on earth are you looking at them?”

“Because we’re going to a house where the demonic activity inspired a super fucking scary movie,” said Ryan, shuddering. “And I’d like to feel at least a little safe. Why is that one bad? How would you know?”

Shane snorted and flapped his hand as if waving away the question. “Why do you need to feel safe? Has anything ever happened when we’ve been investigating? Have I let—“ He faltered, eyes darting away. “Have I let you get yourself into any bad situations?”

“Uh, yeah, you let me walk into a fucking death chute.”

“Ha. Yeah. That was fun.”

“Shane—“ Ryan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why Shane was being particularly stubborn lately, he had no idea. “There was the toothpaste,” he said, backtracking.

“The toothpaste.”

“The toothpaste, on the Queen Mary,” Ryan echoed with a grave nod. The very thought of it made his hair stand on end.

“The toothpaste that a demon… What? Threw at the wall? Oh, except it didn’t actually throw it at the wall, it just slipped off the edge.”

“It didn’t—Wait, demon? You think it was a demon?”

Once again, Shane’s gaze flitted away. “Uh… Isn’t that what you said?”

“No,” Ryan said, drawing out the word. “I just thought it was a ghost. You’re talking like you were there.”

“Whatever. Same thing, right?” Shane’s throat bobbed and Ryan narrowed his eyes, brow wrinkling as he stared at his friend.

As nonchalantly as possible, Ryan tore his gaze away and spun back toward his monitor. He studied the criss-crossing lines of the protection circle, unable to tear his eyes away as a hum started in his ears. The symbol stared back up at him mockingly as a thought began to itch him, like he had something on the tip of his tongue.

His chest tightened, unable to shake the sensation he teetered on the precipice of something critical.

After double-checking that Shane’s concentration remained pinpointed on his own screen, Ryan’s fingers sailed across his keyboard in a blur, his mouth dry as the hum inside his head swelled to a roar.

_‘How to know if your friend is possessed by a demon’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so no cliffhanger resolution yet. i'm so sorry.


	7. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just,,, so done with this chapter. It's nowhere near perfect but I'm tired of working on it and I don't think I can read over it one more time lmao.  
> Thank you to everyone who supported me in every possible way with getting this chapter out there, whether you beta'd or left a comment or encouraged me on tumblr. Thank you.  
> And, I'm sorry it took so long. I'm really busy with loads of other things now, and I try to make this as good as possible for everyone!

Ryan wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dead.

The darkness surrounding him was so thick he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. A deafening silence rang in his ears and he clutched at his head, sinking to his knees on the hard floor and squeezing his eyes shut. _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_ —

“You’re not crying, are you?”

Ryan squeaked and flinched at the voice, lifting his head once again to try and look around, but it was still pitch black. “W-Who’s there? Shane?”

A barking laugh made him wince again. “Is that what he calls himself now? That’s awful,” the new voice drawled, tainted with an accent that Ryan couldn’t quite place. He froze, mouth gaping as he searched for something to say.

“It hardly matters anymore,” the voice continued, echoing around Ryan in a way that made it hard to place where it was coming from. “He’ll be dead soon enough. Well, more dead. Gone. Whatever.”

“What? No! Don’t hurt him!” Ryan shouted, jumping to his feet again and turning wildly on the spot. The only response he received was silence, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

“What the fuck is going on?” He groaned helplessly as he peered into the darkness, unsure if it was his imagination or not that was making the shadows twist and turn into terrifying figures.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He turned to flee as the shadows slithered toward him, only to smack straight into the ground as something clung to his ankle, holding him in place. He tugged and kicked and clawed at the floor, a shaky cry escaping his lips as a bolt of terror struck through him. His heart lodged in his throat as whispers swelled around him, skimming across his skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake, and he could only watch helplessly as the dark forms rose above him, poised and ready to strike. A scream tore itself from Ryan’s throat and he buried his face in his arms, cowering against the floor. This was it. He was going to die. Either this was all some horrible nightmare, or he was really going to fucking die.

But nothing happened.

The whispers faded and soon enough he could only hear his own ragged breaths—which was good, because it meant he was still alive. Despite every cell in his body screaming at him, he lifted his gaze, and came face-to-face with the foot of the hotel bed.

“What?” This had to be some sort of trick, right?

Slowly, Ryan got to his feet, trembling hands going for the bottle of holy water in his pocket. Just in case.

“ _Ryan!_ ”

That was definitely Shane that time, thank fuck. Eyes wide, Ryan stumbled toward the door of the hotel room. His fingertips brushed the knob but he immediately propelled himself backwards again as another wave of shadows surged up in front of his face. “Shane!”

“ _Ryan!_ ”

The shadowy figures snaked toward him. They took their time, as if taunting him, and Ryan cursed as his fingers fumbled with the lid of the water bottle. “Shit shit shit, Christ, oh my God—“

Finally, _finally_ , he got the lid off and flung the bottle forward. The shadows dissolved as the water washed down the front of the door, and Ryan gulped, chest heaving.

After a second of silence, the door jiggled and his heart leapt in his chest. “Shane—“

“ _Ah, fuck, it burned me! What the fuck?_ ” he heard his friend hiss. “ _Ryan, I-I can’t get in._ ”

Ryan’s eyes widened with realization, sweat breaking out onto his brow. _No, no, no_ —

“Nice one. You played yourself.”

He shrieked and whirled around, tripping over his feet in his haste to get away from the man behind him. Dark, slicked back hair formed a widow’s peak above a set of intimidating eyebrows, and he could see a smirk through his bushy but neatly-trimmed beard. He was dressed in all black, with a sweeping coat that blended into the surrounding shadows. Beneath the jacket he was shirtless, his chest covered in dark tattoos that writhed and danced on his skin. The air crackled with power between them and Ryan shivered.

“Hey there boy, it’s me, ya demon,” the stranger said, his voice low and tinted with the unfamiliar accent. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

Ryan picked his jaw up from the floor and licked at his dry lips. “Who are you? What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh. Uh… You can call me… Paul. Sure.” The man – Paul – rolled his shoulders and stretched, his smirk melting into an easy smile. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“ _Ryan? What’s happening? Who is that?_ ” Shane’s voice drifted through the wood behind him and Ryan gulped as Paul’s eyes zeroed in on him again, like a snake observing its prey. Ryan couldn’t tear his eyes away, transfixed even as he was overcome with a sense of doom.

“ _Ryan, I’m going to get you out, I promise, I’ll find a way to get past the—the door, but whatever you do, don’t—_ “

“Oh, shut the fuck up already,” Paul groaned, flicking his hand, and in an instant Shane’s words became muffled nonsense. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something? I don’t even get a ‘hello’? A ‘how are you doing today, my man?’” He raised a thick brow at him.

Breath shuddering in his chest, Ryan could only stare, knowing full well his mouth was hanging open again.

Paul sighed. “Please don’t make this boring.”

Ryan trembled against the door, unable to work up the courage to move even an inch closer to the other man. There was something about him that made Ryan’s gut clench with instinctual fear. “What are you?” he finally managed, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already.

“Are you kidding me? I literally just told you. This isn’t going to be fun if you can’t even pay attention to me.” Paul strolled closer and Ryan’s breath hitched, squeezing his eyes shut as a chill swept over him. “Hey, c’mon man, I’m not going to hurt you. How do you think I got here? By throwing punches? Nah. It’s all about the brain for me. Knowledge is power, or whatever. ” Fingers gripped Ryan’s chin and jerked his head up until he opened his eyes, Paul’s triumphant grin filling his vision.

“What do you know about demons?”

Ryan’s brow knit above his narrowed eyes. “I know I’m not supposed to interact with them in anyway,” he bit out, priding himself on however he managed to not stammer around his words.

Paul snorted. “Sounds like something a priest would say.”

When Ryan stayed defiantly silent, the demon ( _Christ, an actual demon_ ) sighed. “If you end up as a spirit in Hell, you can challenge other spirits for their power. Once a challenge is sealed, they fight, until there’s a loser. Most are fans of blood and gore, but I said to myself—‘hey, some of these guys are pretty dumb.’ And nowhere in the rules of a formal challenge does it say you have to brawl it out like barbarians.” He shrugged. “So I thought, ‘well, what if I challenge some of them to a game of wit?” His lips curled into a grin. “But anyway, exposition is the most boring part of a story, right? So let’s get to the good stuff.”

Ryan was still trying to wrap his mind around all the new information when Paul tugged his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet. “We’re gonna play a little game.”

“I don’t think I wanna play,” Ryan managed, and flinched when Paul let out another loud laugh.

“You don’t really have a choice, buddy. You play or you die. Sounds fun, right?”

Ryan frowned and shook his head, once again wondering if he was dreaming. None of this could be real. There was no fucking way. Okay, sure, he believed in the paranormal, but this was maybe crossing the line a bit.

“That was rhetorical,” Paul sighed as he stepped away and peered into the mirror above the hotel room’s chest of drawers. He smoothed a hand over his gelled hair. “I’m just gonna ask you a few questions. Only three. You answer them all correctly, and I’ll let you live. For at least a little while. Get any wrong and, well…” He turned back to Ryan and drew his finger across his throat in what Ryan assumed was supposed to imply, well, death.

“Got it,” he croaked. What could he do? He was out of holy water; he had no salt, no crosses, and didn’t know any sort of exorcism chants off the top of his head.

“Have we got a deal?” The demon purred, holding out his hand between them.

Shit. What was he supposed to do?

 

_“You wouldn’t actually let a ghost get me, would you?”_

Cursing every angel and demon and deity he could name, Shane shoved away from the door and gripped at his hair as Ryan’s words bounced around his skull. He was here, and Ryan was there, and he couldn’t get to him. The thought tore up his insides and he glared at the door. He could sense the power on the other side, the darkness slithering like invisible tendrils through the walls. He’d never known something this powerful— and it was in there with Ryan.

He needed help.

Shane took off, using his long legs to his advantage as he sprinted down the corridor. He rounded corner after corner, his terror propelling him through the hotel.

After what felt like far too long, he whipped himself into the dark, vacant ballroom and sagged with relief. “I need your help,” he forced between gulps of air.

The two women turned toward him. “The bluenose,” they said in unison, then fell into a fit of giggles.

“It’s Ryan. He’s in trouble.” He didn’t know what else to say, how else to convey the fright expanding like a balloon in his chest.

“The small one?” The pair of spirits stood, hands covering their mouths. “Surely not!”

Shane could only nod. “ _Please_.”

 

“This can’t be that hard of a decision. Like, either you die for sure, or you only maybe die. Why won’t you just shake my hand?” Paul groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Because this is a huge choice I have to make!” Ryan wet his lips and stared at him with eyes the size of dinner plates. “And I’d really like to procrastinate my deal with a demon,” he muttered.

Paul parted his lips – probably to make some other weak-ass retort, Ryan figured – and stepped forward with, literally, murder in his eyes. But then Ryan blinked, and two women materialized between them, their silk dresses swaying around their knees as they looked between Ryan and Paul. And like, okay, some part of Ryan’s mind said, ‘hey look, ghosts’, but this was all really new, and he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming yet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Paul snarled at the women.

“We are _here_ to be a distraction, you ragamuffin,” one of them chirped, flashing Ryan a bright grin and a wink. The shorter man could only blink in return, thrown by the turn of events.

“This young man is precious, and that other one sure does carry a torch for him.”

“Isn’t it the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Well, your _afterlife_ , Marjorie.”

“Jeepers creepers, you’re right!”

“Shut up,” the demon growled, and Ryan’s amusement morphed into a frigid anxiety.

“Now that’s hardly very kind of you, fella—“

“Yeah, dry up! We were only doing our civic duties!”

Paul rolled his eyes and jerked his chin at the women, and Ryan looked on helplessly as they doubled over, pained shrieks ripped from their throats as they dissolved into smoke and swirled away.

He felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. “You killed them?” Ryan’s eyes grew and he jolted backward, a shaky breath slipping past his lips. Holy fuck, this guy wasn’t messing around.

“Yeah. Well, no, they were already dead. But they’re gone forever now. You can thank me later.”

Ryan swallowed and stared at the man – demon – in front of him in horror. Holy shit—a real demon, which had fucking murked a pair of ghosts. If only Shane could see this.

A resounding crack echoed around them and Ryan only had time to see Paul’s eyes widen before the room exploded. With a cry, Ryan’s arms shot up to cover his face and he ducked, cowering against the wall as splintered wood rained down on him.

“Ryan?”

The familiar low rumble shocked Ryan into lifting his head, wide eyes immediately finding Shane’s where he stood in what was left of the doorway.

“What—how did you—“

“Ryan, we have to go. Now.” Shane closed the distance in two long strides, hand stretched out, and Ryan didn’t even think before he joined their hands and let Shane yank him to his feet.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” a voice drawled to his left, and Ryan winced. Of course Paul was fine and unharmed—you could never get rid of bad guys that easily, right? Shit, wait, he had to warn Shane that they were in the proximity of an actual demon from Hell. He faced his friend and unlaced their fingers in order to shove at the tall man’s chest, trying to force him from the room.

“Shane—“

“Now, now, this really isn’t your battle,” said Paul, and Ryan froze, whipping his head between the two men as he struggled to form any sort of response. This was so far out of his league it was in the fucking stratosphere.

“ _Ite nunc_.”

The words churned the air around them, tension bleeding from every pore in Ryan’s body as the world came to a standstill. His eyes locked on Shane, but his friend was stiff, chin high as he scowled at the demon over Ryan’s shoulder. After a moment his eyes slid to the shorter man and Ryan nearly collapsed from the force of his gaze.

Unable to take the suspense anymore, he spoke, “Shane—“

“I do this,” Shane interrupted, eyes sliding back to Paul. “And you let him go.”

“Do what? Shane—“ Ryan tried again, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Paul brandished his hand, a smirk crawling onto his face.

“Dude, I’m not going to let you do this. Seriously, Shane,” Ryan pleaded, eyes darting between the two.

Neither of the men answered and Ryan’s heart thundered in his chest, threatening to break free.

With slow, jerky movements, Shane lifted his own hand and stepped toward Paul. No. _No_. Shane was going to accept his challenge, and if he lost he would fucking _die_ and Ryan would lose the most important person in the world to him and he was not about to let that happen— demons be damned.

With a burst of speed he didn’t know he possessed, Ryan spun and threw his hand out, slapping palm against palm. His heart leapt into his throat as he met wide, blazing eyes.

“Ryan,” Shane said softly, gaze dropping to their joined hands. “What have you done?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RUH ROH  
> If anyone knows who Paul is based on hit me up and I'll give you the biggest high five  
> Next chapter is gonna be pretty angsty probably but not too much!!


	8. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg. Hey hi hello. I'm so sorry this took so long - I had major writer's block, and when I finally got past that it took me a while to get this chapter worked out because I wanted it to be as good as I could make it for everyone! 
> 
> I wanted to let you know that this is the FINAL CHAPTER! We did it kids. I know no one was expecting it, but don't worry, I wrap it all up really nicely, and it's also a really long chapter, and there will totally be an epilogue at some point!
> 
> I also wanted to thank 51wheezes and shanebergaras on tumblr for beta-ing this chapter. I love you guys so much! And I wanna thank everyone who left kudos or commented, this story is 100% for YOU. So thank you.
> 
> This chapter is from Ryan's POV so there's a load of swearing, just in case that bothers you!
> 
> P.S. I updated the tags a bit btw!!
> 
> (Last thing: the first line of this chapter was written months ago, and now Shane is all about pickles. So, I might actually be Shane. Now, let's take a look at some of the evidence behind this theory...)

 “Well. This is a pickle.”

“Shut the fuck up, Shane,” Ryan shot back, glaring at the taller man. He snapped his arm back to his side, the residual heat of Shane’s hand burning into his own palm. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Shit. This can’t be happening.”

When Ryan had pitched the idea of visiting the Stanley Hotel for an episode of Unsolved, he’d had no idea he’d be putting his fucking life on the line. And he couldn’t even gloat about the fact that ghosts and demons and spirits were real (holy shit) because one was about five seconds away from literally murdering him.

This all had to be a prank or something, right? But then he remembered the predatory shadows and the ghosts that materialized out of nowhere and panic gripped him.

“This isn’t real. This can’t be real, dude!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan caught a glimpse of Paul pinching his own arm and shrugging. “Feels real to me.”

Meanwhile, Shane stepped forward. His warm palm hovered over Ryan’s bicep, not quite touching. “I think this is real.”

“You’re—You’re being so calm about this!” Ryan exclaimed. “You don’t even believe in this stuff! You should be freaking out! I mean, look at the fucking door!” he finished with a shriek, gesturing wildly at the splintered wood. Ah fuck, they were going to get such a huge bill for that.

Shane stared at him, lips pursed. “Well… Obviously it’s real now, Ryan, so we just gotta chill, think our way out of this.”

“Christ, of course you would say that. You always have to apply logic. Well fucking newsflash, Shane, but there’s no logic here! Logic flew out the window, and we’re gonna die!”

“I won’t let you die,” Shane growled at him with narrowed eyes.

But Ryan barely heard him. Oh, shit. One of them was going to die. He’d accepted the stupid to-the-death challenge, but he’d accepted it with _Shane_. What was he thinking? He just hadn’t wanted Shane to do the challenge with Paul, he hadn’t even thought – he’d just slapped his hand in Shane’s and now there was going to be a winner and a loser and one of them was going to _die_.

Ryan tried to swallow as his throat tightened with fear. “So.”

“So.”

“So we have to ask three questions.”

“Mm.”

“Okay, that’s fine. This is fine! I just have to ask you an easy question that you can get right, so you can win and, you know, stay alive. Like, what’s two plus two?”

“Five.”

Ryan blinked. “What the shit, Shane.”

Shane huffed and shook his head as if _Ryan_ was being an idiot. “I’m not going to let myself win this, because then you’ll die.”

“Ooh. Stalemate,” Paul muttered, but Ryan didn’t spare him a glance.

“But if I win then you’ll die!” he protested.

 Paul interrupted once again, a slimy smirk crawling across his face. “Truly a rock and a hard place.”

 “I’m gonna fucking deck you,” Ryan shot at the demon without taking his eyes off Shane.

 Shane’s gaze remained stuck on Ryan, eyes blazing with an intensity that Ryan wasn’t used to. “My turn. How tall is Mt. Everest? In centimeters.”

Ryan threw his hands up. “Wha—Of course I don’t know that!”

“That’s the point.”

Ryan blinked, then set his lips in a hard line. Alright, Shane may be trying to lose, but fuck if Ryan was about to let that happen.

“What if—“

Dry fingers pressed against his lips, effectively interrupting him, and Ryan’s eyes flicked up to Shane’s questioningly. The weirdly intimate touch sent sparks shooting across his skin but Ryan totally fucking ignored whatever that feeling was, thanks.

“Don’t,” the other man murmured, and Ryan could only lift a brow in response.

“Any question counts,” Shane added as he lowered his hand.

Ryan blew out a sigh, and took a moment to rephrase his question. “It probably wouldn’t work if I just refused to answer,” he said instead.

“That would be forfeiting and you’d lose,” Shane confirmed.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

A sigh gusted past Ryan’s lips, fingers carding through his hair. Two questions down, one to go, and whoever got the next one wrong would be killed. Like, to death.

“You know I don’t need the challenge to kill him, right?” Paul’s voice grated against Ryan’s ears, setting his teeth on edge. “He’s human; I could stop his heart with a snap of my fingers.”

“Don’t you dare,” Shane snarled before Ryan could reply, sharp as a razor. A shiver trickled down his spine.

“So how—“ He shut his eyes with a groan. No questions. Right. “We’ve gotta get ourselves out of this,” Ryan said, before it could turn into an all-out brawl. They’d used up two questions and there was only one left now. Could they just like… never ask each other a third question? Except, no, because they spoke everyday. Shane would probably end up asking something stupid like what he thought of cocoa puffs, and Ryan’s answer would end up killing one of them.

Mind whirling, Ryan pressed a hand to his temple. What if they didn’t have to worry about this stupid challenge? In movies, if there was ever a curse or a spell or some shit, the characters could get rid of the source, and it’d be lifted. Right? So they just had to get rid of the source. Which meant…

They had to kill Paul.

Ryan met Shane’s gaze. The taller man pursed his lips and gave the slightest nod, as though he understood the thoughts forming in his mind. Ryan wouldn’t be surprised if he did, honestly.

Ryan wracked his brain. He was fresh out of holy water and hadn’t even thought to bring salt, and he didn’t have any exorcism chants memorized. How the fuck was he supposed to get rid of a demon?

“Shane.” He reached out and grasped Shane’s elbow, meeting his fiery gaze. “Demons feed on negative energy. Like a—Like a fucking dementor.”

Shane blinked at him. “If you say so.”

Ryan huffed out a breath and glared at him. “Anyway, so we have to just… think happy thoughts. Maybe.”

“Right,” Shane said slowly, tearing his gaze away and shifting on long legs. “Right.”

“Better than doing nothing.” Ryan shifted his balance, fists curling at his sides, and casted his mind back to the morning before. He’d strode onto the Unsolved set and instead of one paper coffee cup on the desk, there were two, accompanied by a sheepish looking Shane.

“Got you some coffee,” he’d offered quietly, and Ryan blinked, before his face broke out into a wide grin, warmth flooding his chest.

An anguished grunt tore him from his thoughts. Eyes snapping back open, his gaze slid over a smirking Paul to Shane, doubled over beside him.

“Holy shit—Shane?!”

But the taller man swatted away Ryan’s hands when he reached for him, his temple glistening with sweat in the low light of the room. “I’m fine. Just… Keep going.”

“But Shane—“

“ _Keep going_ ,” he commanded in a tone that brought Ryan back to the Vulture Mines, when Shane had ordered him to open the closet door.

“Okay, okay.”

It wasn’t hard; this time he only had to think back to earlier that day, when he’d snickered and bantered with Shane during the tour they’d taken of the hotel. But the smile twitching at his lips fell away as another pained noise reached his ears. What the hell was going on? Shane was acting like he’d eaten some bad hot dogs from the airport or something, clutching his abdomen every time Ryan cast his mind to happier memories. If anyone should be reacting that way, shouldn’t it be Paul? Like, the actual demon?

Oh, shit.

Fucking _shit._

Impossibly wide eyes met Shane’s own, and he actually saw the twitch in Shane’s brow as he caught on to Ryan’s sudden realization. Everything slotted into place; the strange behavior and unusual amount of knowledge Shane had about things he really shouldn’t have any knowledge about, his flippancy toward spirits—

“Ryan, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.”

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why you acted so fucking strange around Father Thomas,” Ryan nearly shouted, eyes wide as saucers as he stepped back.

Shane didn’t miss a beat. “Because he was a grown man spouting nonsense.”

“Okay, well, you’ve referenced Satanism more than anyone should ever reference Satanism.”

“I think you’re reading too much into things.”

“And how—“

“No questions.”

“Fucking shit.” Ryan sighed for the hundredth time that day. “You knew about that person shooting themselves in the face back at the Pulver house like six months ago. I swear on Micki and Dori’s lives that I never mentioned it.”

“Uh—Well, there’s this wacky new doodad called Wikipedia where you can discover all sorts of new information about a range of topics—“

“And that demon protection symbol. You knew it was bogus!”

“Ryan, everything about demons is bogus.”

“ _Toothpaste._ ” Ryan’s chest heaved. “You said the toothpaste was knocked over by a demon, but I’d never even talked about that, let alone thought about it.”

Ryan’s fists balled at his sides, tone lowering, and Shane met his fiery gaze with wide, panicked eyes.

He blinked as bile rose and stung at his throat. “That was you,” he croaked.

“No—“

“Oh my fucking god! That was you! All those years ago, you fucking—you fucking prick!”

Shane shook his enormous blimp of a head and Ryan’s entire body thrummed with rage. “You’re a fucking liar, you were there! Somehow, that was you on the Queen Mary, and you knocked over that fucking toothpaste and—Oh my god,” Ryan groaned, burying his face in his hands

“You’re—“

“Ryan—“

“You’re a goddamn—“

“Ryan, please,” Shane begged, lifting a hand between them.

“Stay back!” Ryan yelped and hopped away, hands raised defensively. Oh fuck, oh fuck. No, this couldn’t be happening. Sure, he’d had his suspicions for a while now, what with how it seemed like Shane could talk to ghosts, and how he didn’t like churches, and how he knew a little too much about magic symbols. But it was all circumstantial, right? It wasn’t like, actually possible, right?

But it kind of totally was, because there was Paul, a real flesh-and-bone demon, standing there smirking at him like a motherfucker. And Shane… Well, he’d never seen Shane look at him with such wide eyes before. He looked fucking terrified—terrified of _Ryan_.

“Y-You better get out of my friend,” he finally managed, priding himself on how his voice only stuttered a little bit.

“I am your friend, I’ve always been your friend, Ryan—“ Shane reached forward again but the shorter man staggered back a step, the dresser digging into his spine.

“Goodness, this may be my new favourite soap opera,” Paul drawled, lips still turned up in that goddamn sneer that made Ryan’s skin crawl.

“Quiet,” Shane snapped at him.

“It should be called _Days of Our Deaths_.”

“Shut up,” Shane rumbled at him, in a way that made Ryan’s hair stand on end.

“ _The Young and the Soulless?_ ”

 Ignoring him, Shane edged forward again, toward Ryan, but the shorter man gulped and pressed harder against the drawers, something like a tennis ball lodging itself in his throat.

“Don’t.”

It was like the single syllable tore a hole in Shane’s chest. His eyes widened, lips parting around a sharp breath as he tensed.

“Ryan—“

“You’re a fucking demon! You’re a monster! Like… evil incarnate, or some shit like that!”

Shane – _demon_ Shane – huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh right, because reciting the literal definition of a demon is dramatic. Fuck you,” Ryan muttered, arms folded across his chest now. And okay, maybe it wasn’t so much that Shane was a demon that bothered him – he kind of already figured that was the case – but why didn’t Shane _tell_ him?

“You’re the one always spewing hate about demons and evil spirits,” Demon Shane murmured as though reading his thoughts, voice softer than Ryan’s ever heard it before. He sounded almost vulnerable, of all things. And damn, he’s right, too.

“I mean, you can’t blame me! Demons don’t exactly have the best reputation,” Ryan replied, and this time his voice was quieter too, as the reality of the situation settled in his chest. Jesus Christ, this was actually happening.

“And I’m not possessing anyone, by the way,” Demon Shane continued, but he faltered. “Alright, okay—that’s not true, I _am_ , but you don’t know the real Shane Madej. Who you know is all me, baby.” His lips twitched in an imitation of a smile, but Ryan’s frown remained cemented in place.

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, sue me,” Demon Shane muttered, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.

“I don't know for sure that you're telling the truth,” Ryan murmured after a beat as his heart rate began to calm.

Demon Shane lifted his head, eyes locking with Ryan’s own. “Well... I am.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, muttering, “You’re such a smart-ass,” and the tension eased, just a little, just enough for Ryan to let his eyes drag over Demon Shane. Alright, maybe Shane’s zip code was 666, and maybe he wasn’t human, but... He was still Shane, so maybe calling him Demon Shane wasn’t the most sensitive idea he’d ever had. He looked exactly the same, with his stupid gravity-defying hair and flannel and tight jeans that showed off his legs a little too well. Wait, what?

But then another thought made Ryan’s throat close up. “Dude, if I try to get rid of Paul, it could kill you too!”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Paul butted in. “You wanna get rid of me? What about friendship, bro?!”

Shane shifted, eyes flitting aside. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

His jaw clenched. “Then I can’t do it. Not if it’ll kill you, I can’t lose you too,” he said quietly, because despite the huge fucking lie that’s been hanging over them for—for years, Jesus – Shane is still Shane, he was (literally) Ryan’s ghoul friend, and they’d been through thick and thin. He’s the same Shane, he’s just… a fucking demon.

“Ryan, I’m not letting you die either, you have a family.”

“So do you!” Ryan protested, throwing his hands in the air, even as his chest contracted at the thought of leaving his brother, and his mom, and his dad. Fuck.

“No, I don’t. I don’t have anyone. This guy—“ Shane gestured to his body. “Has people. But I don’t.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Madej,” Ryan said as he stepped closer. “Because you’ve got me.”

“I need a barf bag,” Paul groaned, followed by a some heartfelt gagging noises.

But Ryan ignored him, eyes locked with Shane’s. “I don’t know if I can do it. I keep thinking about what’ll happen to you, too.”

“Hey, just… cast that funny little brain of yours to something good,” Shane assured. “Something positive. The Lakers. Disneyland. _Back to the Future_. All those merry things that bring a smile to Ryan Bergara’s face.”

The side of his mouth tugged up in a tiny grin despite himself, and Ryan rolled his eyes fondly.

“Ryan.” Large palms rested on both of his cheeks, tilting his head up until his eyes met Shane’s. “Hey man, you’re… You’re so great. I gotta thank you for making Unsolved, because it let me get to know you, and to…” He trailed off and cleared his throat, eyes flicking away for a brief moment. Ryan gulped, a burn crawling across his cheeks. He and Shane were buddies, sure, but the way Shane’s eyes softened with such vulnerability almost made Ryan uncomfortable, ashamed to admit that this didn’t happen too often between them.

“Remember my first day of work. I came in and took the computer next to yours and you gave me the dirtiest look. I think you had your hopes set on Steven sitting next to you,” Shane chuckled, eyes sparkling. “But you got this long, gangly dude with messy hair. And then—“

“Popcorn,” Ryan cut in with a soft giggle. “We practically had a brawl over the garbage otherwise known as caramel popcorn.”

“And you stormed off. I thought you were being dramatic and asking for a new desk partner.” Shane grinned. “But then you came back with a steaming bag of microwave popcorn to share with this fellow kernelhead, and uh… As they say, the rest is history.”

Ryan’s lips quirked up, warmth curling in his chest, his heart pulsing through his fingertips.

And Shane’s brow knitted, lips pursed in a grimace even as he kept his hands on Ryan’s face.

“Right, okay,” Paul said, edging closer. “But he also lied to you, Ryan. For years. Doesn’t that tear you up inside?” He slithered behind Ryan, until his chest brushed his back, lips hovering over his ear. “How can you call him your best friend when you don’t even know who he is?”

Ryan shivered, repulsed at the demon’s proximity. “Fuck off,” he shot back. But, well, he was sort of right. Shane was a fucking demon, and he’d lied about it straight to Ryan’s face, despite how close they were and everything they’d been through together. The realization made a chill creep through him.

“Ryan.” Shane dropped his hands to his friend’s shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as Paul cackled behind him. “This is what he wants you to think, he’s feeding off of you—You can’t let him get to you.”

“I mean, he probably only hung around to suck your soul out,” Paul purred, ignoring the glare Shane hurled at him. “Why else would he push you to visit all those terrifying places? Why would he rope you into situations that made you scared out of your mind? He just wanted all that delicious despair.”

Despite himself, the words set Ryan’s teeth on edge, jaw clenched so tight he had to mentally relax it. Betrayal clogged his heart like an icy sludge. No wonder, right? No wonder Shane argued with him constantly, brought denial on top of denial down on his head, practically shitted on him for his belief in the paranormal (which, what the hell?! he’d been right!), and deliberately placed himself in harm’s way at dangerous locations – it was all to get a rise out of Ryan, so he could fucking snack on all those negative thoughts.

“That’s so not true. Ryan.” Shane curled his hands around Ryan’s biceps and ducked to meet his gaze. “Sure, scaring you shitless is like having my own little motion picture…” He trailed off and cleared his throat when Ryan narrowed his eyes. “But I joke around, I make sure you’re okay, and I never push too hard, and I’ve always got a good little joke cocked and ready to go to make you laugh. Don’t boil my entire personality down to just my – shall we say, hellish tendencies.”

Ryan snorted despite himself, the ice in his chest thawing a little.

“And I want you to laugh,” Shane continued, drawing him half a step closer. Ryan’s breath hitched as the proximity sent his heartrate skyrocketing, warmth simmering beneath the surface of his skin. “Because we’ve got a fucking great thing going. Unsolved is your baby, as you’re so fond of calling it. It’s what you’ve always wanted. You worked hard for this, and you’ve done something totally awesome, and before you know it we’ll be giving the Try Guys a run for their money.”

A giggle slipped from Ryan before he could stop it. But it’d already begun – Shane’s praise made the little ball of warmth in his chest spread outward, churning through each and every vein until he was full to the brim with joy, his throat thick with emotion.

Shane coughed a little and shifted his weight, and if Ryan didn’t know any better he’d think Shane was blushing. “And… Hey, you know, I like doing the show with you. It’s a big hoot.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, like he was struggling to form words. “You’re one of the most idiotic but greatest people I know, and I—“

But then Shane tensed. “Ryan—“ A grunt escaped his gritted teeth as he doubled over, hands falling from Ryan’s body to press against his own temples as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“You—You fucking idiot!” Paul howled. He lunged toward them but large, familiar hands propelled Ryan into the hotel bed, and then Shane was there, using his fucking Sasquatchian height to his advantage as he blocked Paul from Ryan’s view. “Don’t stop, Ryan,” he ordered over his shoulder.

As his heart threatened to explode from his chest, Ryan gulped and slammed his eyes shut. To be honest, he felt a bit silly as he let the gentle heat curl and stretch and twist inside of him, imagining the warm glow pulsing from him in waves to propel Paul away, like a goddamn Patronus charm or some shit.

He could hear snarling, and cursing, and what sounded like wind whistling through a crack in the window before silence crashed down on him. Ryan kept his head craned downward. Did it work? Was Paul gone? But did that mean—

“Shane!”

Trembling, his head shot up and his eyes scanned the room. It seemed brighter, almost. It only took a second for his gaze to find Shane and he blew out a sigh of relief. “You’re okay.”

Shane blinked at him, looking just as surprised as Ryan felt. “Nothing gets past you.”

“You fucking—“ Instead of finishing the insult, Ryan jumped to his feet and rushed forward, arms outstretched. But he jerked to a halt just inches from Shane as his mind caught up with his body. Holy shit, he’d almost hugged Shane. Did they hug? Had they ever hugged? Uncertainty seeped into his limbs and he let his arms fall, glancing aside with a deliberate, uncomfortable cough.

“Is that other piece of shit gone?” he asked instead. Damn, he never thought he’d ever be so relieved to use a form of goddamn punctuation.

A sigh gusted past Shane’s lips, and Ryan saw him rake a hand through his mussed hair out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

A beat, and then Ryan slammed his fist up through the air.

“Yeah! Fuck you! Suck my dick, demon!”

“Ry-Ryan!” Shane wheezed between breathless chuckles.

“What? He’s gone! He was a prick, dude, fuck him.”

“I mean—You’re not wrong, but you gotta chill, man,” Shane laughed, his eyes the brightest they’d been all evening. “He’s gone, not dead. He could come back.”

“Nah, he knows not to mess with us now. I’ll murk him if he comes back. They don’t call me Ryan Berg-arm-a for noth—Shit!”

His heart practically burst when the window rattled, and he launched himself straight into Shane’s embrace, broad shoulders pressed against Shane’s chest.

“Christ, Ryan, it’s just the wind,” Shane pointed out with another burst of laughter. Warm palms soothed down his biceps and Ryan huffed, sagging with relief.

“Forgive me for being a little on edge,” he muttered, craning his neck to glance up at Shane behind him. Wide eyes darted to the sliver of space between them and Ryan stumbled back, heart in his throat. “Sorry,” he burst out.

Shane shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He’ll be weak for a while. He won’t be back.”

It took a moment for Ryan to catch on, still distracted by the ghost of warmth along his back from Shane’s own body. “Oh. Right. Good. Back to being a demon-free residence then.” He blinked and smiled bashfully. “For the most part.”

Shane shuffled on the spot, and Ryan couldn’t help but grin at how uncomfortable he looked. Bastard fucking deserved it, honestly.

Questions welled up inside of him, dancing on the tip of his tongue, but Ryan stamped them down, forced them into a little box in the back of his mind and securely locked them away. Those were for another time.

“You okay?” he asked instead, tilting his head. “Never heard you be this quiet for so long.” He grinned, just a little, and it felt false even to him. But hey, at least he tried, right? Three cheers for open-mindedness.

“Me?” Shane scoffed. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“ _Me?_ ” Ryan mimicked, grinning. “I knew you’d never let a ghost get me.”

Every one of Shane’s limbs visibly tensed. But then his lips stretched into a soft smile. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Yeah you did.” Ryan mirrored Shane’s fond grin. “So, ’course I’m fine. Pretty sure near-death experiences and satanic rituals were in the Buzzfeed contract anyway.”

A snort lurched from Shane’s lips. “Would you believe me if I told you some of the higher-ups at Buzzfeed are demons?” He jerked his head toward the door, gesturing for Ryan to follow him as he strode into the brightly lit hallway.

“Uh—Wait, what?” Ryan hustled after him. “Are you serious?”

“No.” Shane flashed him a grin and Ryan groaned, pressing a hand to his face.

“You’re gonna do that a lot from now on, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Shane replied cheerfully, popping the end of the word.

“You’re a monster. Literally, a monster.”

“Hey! I’m a _hell_ of a guy.”

Ryan jerked to a halt. “No. Fuck you. That’s not allowed.” His eyes widened. “Wait… You’ve been making jokes this whole time, haven’t you?”

Shane hummed and finally turned away from him toward the destroyed hotel room door.

“’Hey there demons, it’s me, ya boy’—you were literally greeting them like they were your fucking colleagues!”

 With a grin, Shane tapped the side of his nose and winked at Ryan. Then he brushed his hand through the air like he was Doctor Strange or some shit like that, and Ryan wanted to laugh at the stupid fucking motion, but then the splintered wood lifted on its own and knitted itself together until there was a complete, undamaged door resting on its hinges once again.

“Damn.”

Shane’s throat rumbled with another noncommittal noise before his eyes caught on something down the hall. With a frown, Ryan followed his gaze, but the corridor was empty. “Shane?”

The taller man gave a half nod to whatever he was staring at, and then the line between his brows eased and he flicked his gaze back to Ryan. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but then clicked his teeth together again and he swiveled on his heel to stride down the hall.

“Hey—wait! What was that? Did you see something?” Ryan sucked in a sharp breath, hurrying to keep pace with Shane’s longer legs. “Did you see a ghost? Can you see other ghosts? Have you seen them before? Like at other places we’ve been to? Fucking hell, dude! Can you talk to them too? Maybe you can convince one to give me some sweet-ass evidence for Unsolved!”

Shane smirked to himself as Ryan chattered away next to him, the two men strolling to the end of the corridor and swinging around the corner, as Ryan’s voice drifted behind them.

Silence, and then the lights flickered as a tendril of dark smoke slithered from beneath the door to room 217. It hung in the air for a moment, then contorted and darted into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Ahh! Hopefully you enjoyed whatever the hell this journey was. Thank you so much for sticking around and for all your support once again. I love you all so so so much! Look out for more of my writing soon!
> 
> Also, sorry this isn't really that Shyan-y. I tried to keep it as realistic as possible because it just made it easier to keep it from getting too OOC haha.
> 
> P.S. Fun fact: Paul is totally based on my favourite contestant from Big Brother k byyyeee

**Author's Note:**

> hello darkness my old friend


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